


Bless the Child

by why_the_nightingale_sings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel POV, Feels, Gen, POV First Person, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/why_the_nightingale_sings/pseuds/why_the_nightingale_sings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's so much you don't know, Dean. So much I want to tell you. How can I make you understand all I have done?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bless the Child

**Author's Note:**

> The song I was inspired by is by the Finnish metal band Nightwish and you can listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YFV-CjoZbco

There’s so much you don’t know, Dean. About me. About yourself. So much I want to tell you, though I don’t have the words. Nor would you comprehend the magnitude of it all. How can I make you understand all I have done? All I have done for you? I suppose it began when I was Made.

_I was born amidst the purple waterfalls. I was weak, yet not unblessed. Dead to the world. Alive for the journey._

I was born amidst the purple waterfalls which feed the Pool of Creation in the Garden of Heaven. Oh, such a place you’ve never seen. Perfect and pristine and pure and beautiful. It was there that I was Made. I was weak, a newborn fledgling, my Grace drinking up the power of my Father that flowed through and around me. I was pure, shining and untarnished, untainted and untouched by darkness. My eyes were filled with the wonder of my Father’s Creation. I was not alive as humans understand it, and your world had no knowledge of my existence. And yet, I was more alive than your primitive mind can comprehend. I am conscious of all of my Father’s Creation, living and dead, past and present, and even yet to come.

_One night I dreamt a white rose withering, a newborn drowning, lifetime loneliness. I dreamt all my future. Relived my past. And witnessed the beauty of the beast._

I saw and felt, as though I were there to experience it, a white rose, pure and beautiful, untouched by blemish, wither before my sight. Excruciatingly slowly and as fast as a flame blown out, the petals curled and darkened, the sweet hue of innocence bleeding out of the blossom as it twisted and crumbled to blackened ash. I turned away and my eyes were greeted by the sight of a newborn soul, clean and sparkling, glowing with light, twisting and flailing, crying out in a silent voice, unheard, unloved, forgotten, as it drowned in horrible, clinging darkness. 

I tried to save it, to lift it from the depths of that black pit, but I too was trapped by that grasping, clutching pool and I could not move. Then I saw myself, gilded and resplendent with triumphant celestial light. In my hands was cradled a precious treasure and I watched myself rise from the shadow and free the drowned soul and vanish in a flash of white light. Then I became the soul, fresh and new and pure, swimming in the pool where I was born. I floated down to the depths of the pool where awaited a clawed hand, grasping me tightly and dragging me down into the fiery Inferno where a massive beast was trapped and chained. His icy eyes stared into the very core of my being and he claimed my name in a voice of music and milk and honey.

I prayed to my Father, telling him all I had seen and seeking understanding. He spoke to me, saying I had been granted a vision, a rare knowledge of what the future held. I pleaded that I didn’t understand, but He told me that I would understand once the time came for me to fulfill His Will and purpose for me. He showed me the pool of souls and pointed out one soul, raised away from the others and shining brighter than all the others, strong and fierce. And my Father said to me, “Like the little fish, my child, this soul has its part to play. This soul will become very important. Protect it.”

I think it was then that I first loved you, when I saw how brightly you shone. I did not know you as humans understand the word, but when I held your soul, I was filled with warmth. And I loved you.

_Where have all the feelings gone? Why has all the laughter ceased?_

I brought you back, Dean. I pieced you back together, sewing the pieces of your tattered and tortured soul together, washing your body clean, making you strong and beautiful. I made you beautiful again. You were my masterpiece, Dean. My opus. I sacrificed my brothers’ and sisters’ lives to rescue you and give you back what you had given up for your brother. I gave you all I could. But it wasn’t enough.

No longer did you smile. All you felt was pain, anger, and the callousness Alistair had given you. The sparkle no longer had a place in your green eyes. You pretended to be fine, but your eyes betrayed how empty and dead you were on the inside. Dead to the world.

_Why am I loved only when I’m gone? Gone back in time to bless the child._

I know your fear; the abandonment you dread, your belief that you will be left forever alone to live a lifetime of loneliness. But do not push me away, Dean, please. You’ve taught me how to feel, now do not cause me pain. Do you not know that I have always been with you? I cradled your unborn soul, protected Mary your mother, guarded you every step of the way, heard each of your heartfelt prayers, I have watched over you since you were a child and blessed you with every breath.

_Think of me long enough to make a memory. Come bless the child one more time._

Do you think of me, Dean? When I am not there with you? Am I as often in your thoughts as you are in mine? I never understood the sentiment humans attached to memories before I met you, Dean. I’m curious, are the memories you have of me fond? Do they bring you happiness? Or peace? Do you think of me when you don’t need my aid? Late at night, after the ugliness of the day, when you have time to yourself, do you think of me then? Do you find your thoughts turning to me and can’t control where they lead? Am I as close to your thoughts as you are to mine?

_How can I ever feel again? Given the chance, would I return?_  
I may be an angel, but I still have the capacity to feel. I can feel anger, loss, pain, heartbreak. You have awoken them in me. You taught me how to feel them, through example and through your callousness. You’ve shown me how to be more human, but these things…..I do not wish to feel. If they are all you can give me, then why should I feel at all?

I saw how Hell changed you. As I pieced you back together, I witnessed it all; the creature Alistair awoke within you and how cold you’ve become. I know your doubts. I know your weariness. And I wonder, if I had to go back and make the choice to save you again…would I? I’d save you from the torment in a heartbeat, but I cannot change the life to which I’d return you. Every choice…every action made because of you…would I do it all again? I’ve given up so much for you, sacrificed more than you know. Is it worth it? Would I give you up to go back to how things were?

I think we both know the answer to that, Dean.

_I’ve never felt so alone in my life._

Banished from my home. Hunted by my brothers and sisters. Denied by you. Lost. Wandering. Injured. Fallen. Was it worth it?

Are you worth it?

_As I drink from the cup which was counting my time. There’s a poison drop in this cup of Man, to drink it is to follow the left-hand path._

I trusted when I should have backed away. I’ve failed you so many times. I sought to redeem myself and only failed again. But this time I brought the Heavens with me as I Fell and they burned. I’ve sinned. Disobeyed. Rebelled. Followed the path my Fallen brother paved with his intentions. I thought I was doing the right thing. But, as you said, I always do.

Don’t find me. I don’t deserve to be found.

Don’t save me. I don’t deserve to be saved.

_Where have all the feelings gone? Why is it the deadliest sin to love as I loved you?_

Where are all the other feelings I’m supposed to feel? Why are you the only thing I care about? Why are you so special? What makes you so important? My Father said I would understand, but I am only more lost than ever. Do you understand? No. I think you’re frightened. You understand it more than I, but you refuse to explain it to me. Why? Is it so shameful? Is it a sin? For all the pain it has brought, perhaps it is. After all, was that not the greatest sin of Lucifer? He loved too much. Shall I, too, be damned as he?

I don’t know what to do. I don’t understand all these things I feel. Where are you when I need you? I’m lost and alone and so utterly human. It frightens me. I feel everything and nothing. I feel such pain and heartache. Is this what it is to be human? Where are the emotions you and your brother have told me of? Love and happiness and affection and compassion? Where have they gone? I cannot find them. Perhaps I do not deserve to feel them, after everything I have done.

I only sought that which I did not understand. No one could ever possibly explain to me the depth of our bond. Our profound bond. I sought understanding. I sought knowledge. But everything I sought took me further away from you. Time and time again I found myself apart from you, with your anger and your cold eyes haunting my every thought. You pushed me away, how was I to know you wanted me to stay? 

I thought I was doing the right thing, seeking to understand, to protect, to bless, to be worthy of you. To be worthy of your faith, your prayers, and your love. I became a pariah among my kin because of you, Dean, fallen in more ways than one, lost from that moment when I first laid my hand on you in the Pit. I’m sorry. I say it every time. But you don’t hear me.

_Now unblessed, homesick in time, soon to be freed from care, from human pain. My tale is of the most bitter truth: Time pays us but with earth and dust, and a dark, silent grave._

Pure I am no longer. I’ve lost the right to be divine. Tarnished. Tainted. Corrupted by darkness and lies. I’ve sinned. I’ve lied. I’ve blasphemed against you, my Righteous Man. And I am punished justly by being cast down to join the ranks of meaningless, unimportant humans. I am human now, and I know what that means. I am ephemeral. Fleeting. I will die. And it is no more than I deserve. I feel the passage of time and await the embrace of the earth and my tomb, the silence of the dirt in which I will be buried. If I thought it would serve a greater purpose, if I thought it would save or even help you, if I was stronger and not afraid, I would end my human suffering now. I would take my life. For what else can I do? There is no purpose to my life. What do I have to live for?

As I feel the passage of time, as I feel the weight of humanity burden my shoulders, as I see the destruction I have wrought, as I hear the screams of my burning and falling brothers and sisters, I seem to hear the voice of my Father, reaching through the void and the infinite space and time in which He exists to whisper His Word and Wisdom to my ears,

_“Remember, my child: Without innocence the cross is only iron, hope is only an illusion, and Ocean Soul’s nothing but a name…”_

Innocence. I have not been truly innocent since I opened my eyes amidst the purple waterfalls. Innocence is lost to me. There is no hope for me to return to childlike innocence. But you, Dean, you must find again the innocence of a child, for without it you cannot hope to find the strength to continue on. Please, Dean. Find your innocence. I cannot give you what is not mine, I cannot help you find something I have lost. I am not innocent. I am not pure. But you are. Your soul shines brightly like a beacon through the shadow of sin and despair and I am as drawn to you now as I was from the moment I held your soul in my hands. But I know better than to find you again. My sin and my failure will only dim the light and splendor which is yours. My faith is long gone, but the only I can do, Dean, the only thing I can do for you, is offer a prayer…and a blessing. The same blessing I whispered when I held your unborn soul, the same blessing I murmured when you were born into the world, and the same blessing I bestowed upon you when I washed you clean from the torment of Hell. I offer it again now, because I am unworthy to do anything else. Remember this prayer, Dean Winchester, for I love you and there is nothing I will not do for you.

_The Child bless thee and keep thee forever._


End file.
